I always miss NaNoWriMo because November is a super-busy month and writing an entire book in that month is a monstrous task. However, I decided to do it this year with the understanding that I’d write daily, but not break myself to finish the book. Because, really, what’s the hurry?
For the past year, I’ve been playing with this idea of doing a retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Match Girl tale. After watching the Disney short, I read the story and considered how I could turn this story into not only a Christmas book, but into something a little less depressing and more compelling.
I think I’ve worked out the basic plot in my mind. Basically.
So, here’s a taste of what I’ve been working on:
I woke up in the snow this time, the snowflakes drifting down, coating the light posts and ground like a fine, gauzy cotton. It felt more like that Christmas from long ago—the one that started it all—than any other Christmas since.
Especially last year. Last year’s Christmas was in Bermuda. So, you know, no snow. I could almost pretend the summer had finally caught up with me. I longed for the close sunlight and stifling heat of a true summer, something other than this perpetual winter slowly freezing my heart in my chest.
I sat up on the bench, looking just like any other indigent person. Not that I belonged to that group. Or any group. I was, as I had been for the countless years before, something apart. Connected to the other seven billion only through my humanity. Not time or space. Just my warm beating heart and one month a year.
The month it had all ended for me. And where it had all began again.